Page 70 of A Dance of Water

Embers crackled.

Vale’s hands turned firm on her body, mercilessly pushing her away from him. She tumbled from his lap, catching herself just in time with her palms against the floor. The neckline of her gown threatened to expose more than just a hint of her breasts, and she quickly righted it. Shame fell swiftly over her.

The sounds of the crowd turned delighted as they stared at the discarded Chosen at their King’s feet.

Whispers filled the room. She was stuck, unable to move as they all stared and stared.

"Look at her," a hushed murmur, punctuated with noises of agreement and loathsome amusement.

Twisted glee at the stolen Princess.

Sound roared in her ears, and she was only snapped out of it by the sight of her demonic protector, jaw hard and eyes narrowed as he stomped toward her, uncaring of Vale’s warning look at him encroaching upon the throne.

Az knelt before her. "Angel, stand. Please."

Her lip wobbled. Why must she always be so weak? She wanted to be strong and uncaring, but it wasso hard.

Az gently pulled her to stand, and he let her goslowly, hands curling into fists by his thighs to stop himself from reaching out again.

She stood upon the dais before the courtiers, a mockery of the first night when she was marked as the Chosen.

Luella forced herself to be strong, a fallacy—but she was nothing if not a pretender.

"Kneel, Chosen. I grow tired of you. Take your rightful place beneath me." Vale projected his voice as if for the benefit of the crowd.

Her skin burned, mouth turning to ash.

Between the lines of his words: she was a burden.

She allowed everything she would never dare say to burn in her eyes, all the emotions, the shame, and the rage. All of it was clear as the crystalline snow that shone down from the skylight above.

Slowly, Luella fell to her knees, forcing herself to put on a graceful suit of armor, pretending she was some mighty queen filled with pride and not a dejected, ridiculed captive. Neither a wrinkle nor a frown marred her face. She turned the situation into her own, making it appear as if it washerchoice to kneel, not something forced upon her.

The whispers were quelled by the faint scent of ash from Vale’s smoky exhale.

The revelers resumed their dancing, but tension filled the throne room.

The King tangled his hand in her hair, forcing her head to tip back. "You remember the dungeons, darling?" The name was acerbic on his lips, not like the sweet words of familiarity uttered by her demon. "Or do you need a reminder tonight?"

Sleet struck the glass dome above their heads. Would it shatter once more, not as part of their games but from the force of the elements? A part of her wished for it to, even if she was cut in the process.

Az bristled, fabric growing taut across his shoulders as his muscles strained.

No.

She couldn’t risk it. The King would easily throw Az back into the dungeons if she so much as made one misstep—the promise she had made to grant him a tryst was still unfulfilled. She didn’t like owing anyone anything and would have to remedy it soon.

"No." She made herself meek, something that came easily to her, chin dipping to her chest as she stared at the marble floors.

Vale’s fingers loosened in her hair before he pulled away from her. "I thought so, Chosen."

Bastian’s arrival saved her from the King’s irascibility.

He held a tray filled with an assortment of nuts and berries.

The vampire did not speak as he held out the tray to Vale, who took it wordlessly, lifting a plump berry and bringing it to his lips. A thin line of juice dribbled down the side of the berry and stuck to his tanned, jeweled fingers. He didn’t bother wiping it away.

When he was finished, Vale offered his fingers to her, pressing them against her closed mouth.

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